George and the Boy

George woke aching.  His head pounded, his neck was sore, and his back groaned at the slightest movement.   It felt as though every dragon slayer ever born had decided that his existence could no longer be tolerated and so had challenged him, one after the other, to combat- or at least to a drinking competition.  The movement of the stationary floor told him he would probably have beaten the lot if they had.1

The darkness behind his eyelids was a comfortable refuge; he could at least imagine that it was the floor rocking, and it was warm there, and there was no light falling in his eyes to burn through the back of his skull.  But he was aware of someone watching him, fearfully.2

He opened one eye, and then blinked it quickly; startled.  A boys face was inches from his now open eye, peering down into it.  George assumed his eyes must be bloodshot, from the startled look he received in return.  He let his eyelid slowly fall back into place.3

“You might want to move back a few paces there, unless you like being crushed by dragons first thing in the morning?”  The boy gave a yelp of surprise and fear and quickly retreated to the cave wall, shaking his head.  George sighed, stretched and rolled onto his feet.  He yawned loudly.4

“I don’t mean to be rude, but were you wanting anything?  Or do you like waking others up when they evidently need more sleep?”  George looked down with mild interest at the boy; he was relatively sure that he hadn’t been there the night before, but he may have arrived late.  “I’m sorry, but did we meet last night?  I do apologise, only I was drinking with a small party of elves all day yesterday, and the whole night was a blur… I do usually try to keep track of my guests.”  He smiled meekly, or at least as meekly as a dragon could get; his eyes did seem to soften slightly, and he lowered his head.5

The boy shook his head, wide-eyed, staring fixedly at the last thing he imagined a dragon to be like.  He held aloft a rolled and sealed piece of parchment.6

“Ah, you’re a messenger?  And that’s for me?  And you’re new to the job?”  George brought his head down, level with the boy, doing his best to smile understandingly.  George’s understanding smile showed rather too many teeth- there was only so much a dragon could do with its face to express emotion; the scales tended to get in the way.7

“First job,” the boy replied.  George nodded; causing the boy to nod as well as he was unable to take his eyes off the vast array of teeth in front of him.8

“Did you travel far?”  Almost delicately George plucked the parchment from the boy’s outstretched hands- he had to be delicate for fear of ripping the delicate material of the note, or the boy’s hand for that matter.9

“North Mountains, Loreway Vale.”10

“This is from Ens Lore then?” the boy nodded.  If this messenger had come from Ens Lore, that meant that the message had ultimately come from George’s brother, Peter.  Unlike most dragon siblings, the two got on well together - most dragon siblings would tear each other apart on sight - this was mainly because Peter was a bit of a runt, (small enough he could fit on the palm of any elf or human).  And so George had felt obliged to care for him.  Peter now worked for Ens Lore, however, and lived in another world, spreading the stories Ens Lore collected from this world.11

George looked down at the rolled up parchment  “You’ll have to open it for me I’m afraid; Ens Lore always forgets the size of my claws.”  The boy gingerly removed the scroll from Georges outstretched paw and broke the seal.12

“Can you read it?”13

“Oh yes, just lay it down on the floor.”  The message didn’t say all that much really, just that Peter had been moved to a place called Scott-land, which meant he had a better shelf and a nicer view.  Yet, for some reason the message was very long.  Tacked on at the end was a message from Ens Lore himself, asking George to send on any good tales he heard, and to possibly start a diary, or at least to tell Ens Lore what happened in his life.  Ens lore was always after stories.14

George yawned again, but smiled contentedly (this smile had a few less teeth).  He looked up to see the boy still stood watching.  For a moment, George was unsure what more the boy wanted, then realised it was possibly his leave, or maybe just a reply letter.15

“You can stick around for a while if you like, I may decide to write back.  If not I believe the party of elves are leaving this morning so I’m sure they’ll not be too much hassle for you.  And I think there’s a witch or two waiting to meet up with some fellows around, I’m sure of it.  And there’s always room in these halls and caves for several more.”16

George turned his back on the large wooden doors, of dwarfish craft, that kept the wind from only the corridor directly behind them.  The doors led to the main path that most travellers followed to find George’s caves.  The elves he had been drinking with for almost three days straight had finally left, they had been nice company, but he was definitely going to have to restock on sugar and tea.  They drank the stuff like there was no tomorrow- still at least elves left the ale for George to drink.17

There had been a bit of a tense moment apparently, when the elves had encountered the boy (who’s name apparently was Tomwell) - they said he shook like a leaf, with fear by their account but it was more likely disgust.  The problem would have escalated had the elves not been on their way out- as it was they simply bared they teeth and took comfort in the fact that they outnumbered him.18

George decided that he was going to have to eat something large to settle his stomach.  He always did say that the disputes between elves and men turned his stomach - though in this instance he was inclined to blame the drink.19

He was sure he should have some salted horse in the pantry. But salted meat never really had the same effect as fresh meat.  He wondered if there was still some sides of venison hanging, and if they’d be good yet or not.  Of course he’d have to cook the venison, but that was no problem.  Only, there were some humans still somewhere in the cave; that messenger for one, then the usual treasure hunters, and a small group of soldiers.  If there was one thing dependable about humans, it was that they could smell good food cooking days afterwards and always came along to make sure that you shared.20

It wasn’t that it was a bother cooking for so many people, he was a dragon, heating things came easy, it was more the problem of eating with so many people.  Dragons like their privacy, dragons tended to like their solitude, George had managed to overcome most of those urges, but there was just something about eating with so many people, and not drinking, that made him feel uncomfortable.21

He supposed it could have something to do with the way they all watched him, George thought as he unhooked a few sides of venison and some beef.  People have a tendency to be a little nervous watching a Dragon eat, they all seemed to remember the old tales of human sacrifice.  George remembered them too.  Seeing so many humans and elves with knives, just as you’re about to tuck into a nice deer always reminds him of the vengeful dragon slayers, there to save the pretty ladies.  He’d never seen it happen, and he’d never tried to eat a pretty lady, just in case, but what if the cows heard the stories too?  And he was suddenly confronted with an armour clad bull, steam shooting from the nostrils, with a similarly clothed stag for back up, both of them issuing challenges?22

He hurled the meat into the main eating hall.  There were a few wooden benches along the walls, but most brought their own stools, or sat on the floor, or some rubble.  They learnt quickly not to leave furniture in the middle of the room, just in case George didn’t notice them while drunk one day.  It was really only the main eating hall because it was big enough for the elves and humans to be kept at a safe distance from each other and was close to the pantry.23

There was a charred bit of floor near what might have been a chimney and a fireplace when the dwarfs had originally carved out the room.  Since they had left, and George had taken over the fireplace had disappeared and so now there was only a large chimney leading out of the mountain.  It was here where George arranged the meat and continued to breath softly on it.24